The Messengers of God
by Hirako Fieldwar
Summary: In the afterlife, Sam and Dean Winchester turned into Satan and God. They'll try to manage their own demons and angels, playing a really special game. This fiction contains Destiel, Lucifer/Sam and Sabriel.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello people! **First, I want you to know I'm translating this fiction. It's my own creation but, as I'm French, I'm translating it. It's a damn long fiction (around 25 chapters)… I truly hope you will like it. I've decided to translate it since I've discovered how Supernatural is really popular in the fanfiction world. That why I wanted to translate "_Manichaeus_" so bad (the title of the original fiction), and here they are, the first chapters. I had a few reviews on the French text – and I'm unsatisfied because I basically need opinions, I accept any - even positive – criticism.

I leave you with "The Messengers of God".

Thank you.

**Chapter 1:** The end of travel.

My name is Dean and I'll tell you my story.

I spent this day checking the mailbox, the damn postman didn't appear - yet I was expecting some big news. I still do not have the results of my blood tests results. Do not worry about my health, I am okay. Sometimes, I'm not. Like everybody in the world, my chest seems smaller, I can't even expire.

"Don't worry about it, Dean. It's not that serious."

That's what the doctor said, more than once. When you know all about the mountains, every hill around is like the highest peak in the world. I kind of laughed at that thought while pouring my coffee, I added vanilla, _and yeah_ it's so much better like that. The TV is on. It's boring, it talks too much, and did you notice how annoying it is? That flat of mine is still under work. That's what friends say, and that's what you would say. But, I'll be honest with you – I'm not working anymore, and I've never worked here anyway. I came there when Mark asked me to stop that job_... D'you know Mark?_

"_Well_, Dean. You can't even wake up in the morning; I think your mind craves peace and quiet. What does your doc says?"

"He said – don't worry about it Dean. No worry."

"Then he's right. No worry, and go home."

Mark's a cool guy and a cool boss. I mean – he was. I do not know what's going on; let's stop asking questions since I can't give an answer. You know about those stupid questions in your head, don't you? Because you're like me. Everyone is like me, but no one dares to speak about it. The sofa receives the graceful shape of my butt and I turn my head to watch the TV, even if I don't like that. The legs of the television presenter are not ugly: she's kind of cute. Without even realizing it, my eyes close, I forget about the coffee on the table. The froth is waiting for me, to Hell with it – I'm busy.

I dozed off, I did not hear the postman and my blood tests, but as I'm still asleep – I'm even drooling, fuck that's gross. The mobile on the table starts to vibrate but I can't see anything. Is that this unknown number, it's calling me again? It's good I'm asleep; I would get nervous about it. Some birds flutter near my window while the presenter unbuttoned her shirt, on the screen. I open one eye, I stand up. I think she's looking at me, actually.

No, I was wrong, forgive me: the presenter is definitely looking at me – well, she has just crossed the screen. It is exciting, the filter does not hide the disgrace of her two legs, and that's what I like. I focus on her small feet. It's really pretty. She grabbed me by the collar; I feel her nails over my poor clothes. Obviously this is nothing but a dream, but it does not stop me to respond so far. I touch her, I only want to please her and you understand me, right? You can't reject the advances of an angel, from heaven or elsewhere. I do feel her breast now, she wears wonderful underwear. This is exactly what I wanted; I cannot take my eyes off these two partially hidden breasts.

When I really opened my eyes, I rubbed them and looked like a drunk owl. My mobile is on the table, I am sitting straight up on the couch. I'm checking it - his name is clear. It's him, again, again and again.

My overheated brain does not think about the chick that came in my room (besides, she disappeared from my living room so fast!) I'm way too paranoid; it's so dear to our species. What should I do, now? What if I call him? Yes? No?

"_Nevermind" I said._

I notice snow outside, it surprises me. I'm closer to the window, it's misty. I like to imagine that these are not flakes, but ashes of the hidden sun. I have this feeling I can't feel it despite I want it. I want the sun. In those moments, I totally understand why Mark thought it was right to leave me for a moment. The small flakes are falling ashes, it's me, it's Dean. It's okay, Dean.

"Everything is fine, I'm fine."

I opened the window. The roofs are just below, so I slipped a leg and I decided to do something different – something I used to love when I was a silly kid. That was quite dangerous. Who cares?

"You may tremble before Death, jerk." the voice said, inside my head.

" Dean?"

The girl was in her garden, right here with her two dogs. She stared at me.

In fact, I do not feel shame. I even wanted to invite her to come with me, watching the snowfall. She was not the hot, but I'm not trying to make friends, I only want to spare time.

"Hey…"

"A balcony is missing, she said, crossing her arms, you're going to catch a chill! Do not stay here. You could slide and…And fall!"

She's right.

"It is not very high."

"It's not a reason!"

She laughed and clapped her hands. She wears funny mitts; I thought only children were allowed to wear them. It is shameful compared to my situation, don't you think?

"Have a nice day, Dean."

"Thank You."

_Absolute bullshit_ \- and empty conversation.

And there it is, while the flakes scattered my hair, my mind thinks about this call. I will call in the evening but I already know that I will not do it. It's crazy, this hypocritical respect we have for ourselves sometimes.

"I'll try, I'll, and I'll stop."

For nothing! Maybe I will complain in the end - it annoys me, telephone harassment is terrible.

I stand up, I decided to go in. The neighbor is right, the wind chilled my cheeks. The apartment was freakin' cold now. I should have expected!

"If only I could stay here until the end of my life."

I jumped on the bed, the holy sanctuary of my desires. When I pass my fingers against the pillows I think about the times when they were hot, the heads and cries of pleasure I've heard. I lean toward the forgotten whiskey's bottle and I'm smiling. When I'm drinking, that's all hot like a woman was stuck in there. I would ask you to drink with me, but it's very expensive. Just kidding, of course ... Then, I can hear a very annoying sound that stop me from continuing to quench my eternal thirst; I get up and sneak into the living room. This is the mobile, and it's still the same guy who is always calling, every damn day for months, I hope I'll never see him _again_, I may be violent. I'm blinking like a little girl (very quickly) before landing. Despite the exquisite drink slightly in my throat, my voice is not warm.

"Yeah…?"

No answer.

Nothing.

What? I repeat, but no one responds.

\- D'you hear me?

Yet I hear a sizzle. I hang up, no answer.

\- I hate it...

I'm nervous, so I just take the mobile with me in the pocket of my coat- and I'm out, to breathe a little fresh. Let's try to forget the things I've tried to do: a restful nap, staring girls on TV, socializing me, watching the snowfall, drinking my coffee and my whiskey (especially my whiskey). I do not lock the door. I'm smoking now, the flame rises. I look up to old woman, on the other side of the road, pushing her stuffs. She has dirty hair and she's looking at me too. I think she wants to ask me for money, as all the old filthy women who are staring at you. So I walked in the snow that buried slowly but surely my world. I did not check if the woman was still watching me or not- but I felt it. I'm going down the avenue, and then the first bridge - the river is frozen, nature is trapped. Am I becoming a poet?

"D'you have change?"

She's right there; shaking her hands to me.

"Sorry."

I'm leaving but I do hear her, and she's following me. It's more terrifying than all those horror films I've ever watched! I cross a car; it passes in front of me: the transition slips, I'm just crazy.

Now she knows where I live, she will ask for money every damn day.

I wonder how she could get there, if she had family - but the question quickly vanished, out of my head because I noticed some letters in my letterbox. I hurried on; it starts to crack under my shoes. In fact, I'll go. I check out the poor lady, but she is no longer in the avenue. _At Last! _A few cars are rolling in the street, I withdraw some crap magazines, and the blood tests letter is there.

_"That was fast."_

I drop the papers. I'm very impatient to sit on my sofa to read everything…But there's something different in my lovely flat. What is that smell?

"What the…"

I just leave the letter on a side!

"Fuck, that's not good."

The guilty whiskey fell on the floor, it crackled obviously. I am not trying to accuse some ghost and now, let's find the usual disinfectants. As I cut myself picking glass silvers (of course!), and I still have not read the letter ... We all know these dark days, hum? I'm watching the wound, I expect that the blood stops and it's time to read, at last. I go through the results, it reminds me of school. I do not understand algebra, all those numbers written right here. Such a scientist lyricism… It's just _useless_, no sense for me.

"I'm going wrong? I'm fine? Just tell me, that's so easy."

"Dean, the results are very good. "

Or maybe...

"Dean, the results are atrocious! »

But I'm not this stupid. Yes, I've read the blood tests and I know the meaning of these words: "final", "unsatisfying" and "alarming".

I just let the letter on the table. My jaw clenches, I should have tried to find this brother of mine, who had vaguely talked to me. _This brother_, he haunted me forever. I'm holding the bottle in one hand and, do you mind if I drink? I don't care. It's done. I'm not a bad person, I beg you to believe me, cause I'll believe everything you think, anything you would say. I have a sudden urge to listen to music and plunge my head into the water of a warm bath.

When I was young, I thought that porcelain could open a door, led us to the ocean. I wanted to swim with the beasts. Snowflakes ashes and see in the bathroom! _God_ I'm so weird.

My head is spinning a little, I drank too fast. I know this is not a right thing; I should stop that and remember my brother again, I would call him and we would forget about the past! It's never too late. I slide my foot in the water, and when I feel the warm surrounding my skin - my mind is saved. I'm on fire, and it's good. I turned on the radio, Bon Jovi's awesome. My day is not this dark and let the classic rock invade my ears.

I look up at the windows to heaven, I think he still snow, but I do not see very well because it got dark. I hear the voice of the singer, the radio crackles a little, it gets old. I think of all that I lost, all that I can win and lose again. My throat tightens, I think I'm crying. Hard to say, the bath water mixes with everything so I can pretend and lie to me myself. I look at the bottle of bourbon placed next to the coffee table, she tried me vicious ... I should call someone, invite the world. As before, drink until dawn, laugh and write the best projects ever! I sing with Mr. Jovi. I love that voice.

"And when there is nothing left to do, there is still _music_. »

The wound on my thumb is not that bad… I'm about to finish the bottle, but whiskey escapes, as the glass slides - the radio falls.

I held my breath when the radio reached the water's surface in this wonderful bath of mine. My eyes close; I know it's done, anyway. I do not reject what is happening, I cannot do it: I have no power. You just can't play all your life. When the electronic force joins me, it hit my skin hard and my mind is so damn blown.

I'm not here anymore.

It crackles, my body relaxes. This is the beginning of my story.

My name is Sam, and I'll tell you a story.

Actually, it's mine.

Maybe I should call my wife and tell her I'll be late, the problem is - I do not have a wife and it's snowy outside.

\- Sir...?

The student just talked - he offers me a last coffee, I accept with pleasure. He is nice.

\- You don't drink coffee, don't you?

He looks at me with wide eyes, like I said something very stupid. In fact, I'm pretty sure my superiors were abusive concerning his case. Maybe, he thinks I'm some project manager. Those superiors are not that bad, they are just _silly_.

_\- I see…_

Wow, it's weird. I was like him, a few years ago. He didn't respond and drank coffee with me. In the end, he burns his throat before disappearing into the other room.

_"Good evening, sir."_ He said.

I check the records, one last time - everyone has made good results today. I let out a short sigh, I can go home. Time to spin, yes.

"_Sammy!"_

Oh …Not again…!

"_Mr. Texel!" _

I know I may be such a hypocritical person sometimes, but forgive me. This company is going well but all the things you may do aren't this _well_. The man came to me, big belly and sideburns.

\- You know what?

No I don't.

\- You did a very good job, today! You amaze me, lil'man!

I'm not this small. But I know it's another joke, as the way I'm laughing is horrible and I'm moving towards – I just need to run away now.

\- My wife is waiting for me! _Sorry, boss! Oh and the little one's waiting at school too._

\- You have a daughter, Sam! he asked, scratching his head, you are so young! I didn't expect that…

No, I do not have a daughter, but children are always a very good excuse. Just try and see.

\- I gotta run! Good evening, Sir! Greetings to your wife too!

I just go, I do not even know if he has a wife and I'm holding my car keys to my car like my life depended on it. It's not that I do not like the office...

You won: _I do not like the office._

I can finally fit into my mom's Impala (yes, I'm ashamed); I make the boxer engine roar when the snowflakes begin to fall. I remember the last time I saw them. It makes me think about _him_, it makes me smile. It makes me sad too. I finally start under a cloudy sky, the road is okay but there's something wrong, deep in me. I'm frustrated, I hesitate and I grumble. I look at the illuminated screen of my mobile. I have three new messages, is that this girl I had sex with last time? I do not care. This is no big deal.

But no message from him, _never_.

The road is quiet, I take a shortcut, I still think about the same damn thing. When I joined the house, I decide to do it. I park my car on a side, let's start this phone call. I do hear the dial tone, it repeated – those _beeps_ are awful to me, while I push the car door. I realize the snow is really thick. And at the other end of the line, I can hear some responder, again... Now I'm at home, I slid the key into the keyhole and I rush inside, unharmed. I'm not organized, all my clothes are all around, on the floor- and you know what? I had great difficulty in cooking – even something decent last night. The food scraps near the sink when I bend down to caress my cat.

The girl I met yesterday is gone. But I can read her three messages. It seems she really likes me…

"D'you come home tonight?"

"Well, you do not answer."

"I'm going to go home, call me?"

I actually do not know much about women. I yawn, I closely resemble a lion. I am so hungry, I realize that I have absolutely nothing to eat (except spices, _wow_, delicious), the grocery store is in town center and just opened. I sigh. I do not even put on a coat before going out - I have not removed mine I head down to the black Impala I have not fed the cat yet, I'll have to buy something especially for _the Lord_. Before leaving, I turn my head to the other side of the road. I wonder if the guy who lives in that house across the street is hiding from me, because I've never met him _there_. I'm sure he knows I live here, and that's exactly why he never comes out. The avenue is quiet, I see a silhouette hanging something, I do not care: it is time to eat, I'm starving.

As I check my mobile, I see he didn't call back. I have to say it is nothing less than that I would expect from him. He never answered, anyway. _Shit happens._

I stop at a red light, the grocery store is open. The guy inside, he looks like a terrorist. He did not smile, did not talk, I have never heard a word from him. I've always hated rudeness. What I hate more is indifference. I shall help but help the blind girl (and she's kind of attractive) who often comes in this shop, I wonder if she knows that there is actually a man behind the counter (I'm talking about the terrorist, if you have managed to follow my exciting tale). While waiting in the line, I'm holding my packet of instant pasta and apple juice, my phone vibrates. Phew! I'm giving the three dollars, I'm disappointed. It's just the girl, she texted me.

"Do you ever answer, sometimes?" the voice said on the phone.

"You're addicted to me, I guess."

Silence.

"Do you need help?"

Although the chick is on the phone, it does not prevent me to help the sexy blind girl. She thanked me, nods negatively and takes my wrist. For a few seconds I forget the phone. I feel she looks at me, I know she can't, but I feel her eyes. In that single moment, I'm just struck by her beauty, her deep blue eyes and her hair. The conversation was over, there was a small _beep_.

Then they shout, they scream. The door at the entrance was closed now, two guys entered, they wear black hoods, and I do not understand what I'm doing, what's going on? I'm just holding the girl against me and I rush against the wall.

_"On the ground! NOW!"_

This is not a freaking joke, my heart is crazy, I even feel like having a hundred hearts under my chest.

_\- What the…_

I slipped my mobile in my coat pocket while I'm trying to protect the face of the unknown girl against me.

"Stay calm."

We squatted, we obey, and we listen.

\- Cash! CASH!

And the screams of those people I still hear…

The brave guy I called _terrorist_ does not move. For a moment, I expect that he would grab a giant gun, but a second later and he was shot. All I remember is an exclamation of anger or fear, or whatever. I step back, the blind woman starts to cry, I feel his cold hands around me. She clings to me like I was her savior; she had never seen the light. I wonder briefly how it is. I can't say. This is normal.

I am sitting straight up; I see the men on the cash machine, still shooting the body of the man they've just killed. One of them left a gun on the counter. The idea crossed my mind very quickly but I am not sure. Yet unconsciously, my body obeys my thought. This is adrenaline? I see the woman with her child; they're looking at me with wide eyes…

"You! What are you doing?"

I hold my breath. Their gun goes to me; I left my arm watching the blind girl who does not move against the wall, where I had left her. Her lips move as she holds a silver crucifix between her slender hands. I wish I could hold them longer, but that is not possible.

It is no longer possible, because _I'm dead._

When bullets pass through me, one by one, it's like an incredible rain I can't contemplate. The phone card in the system blows my mobile, someone is calling me, but it was not that girl I've touched last night. It is the last person I would expect, and I'm not there for _him_. I feel terribly guilty because deep down I know he does think about me, for sure.

"You're very different; who would not think you are actual brothers!"

_Something_ comes to me who believes in nothing, not the end and not the start.

"Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck. I sink in the miry depths, where there is no foothold. I have come into the deep waters; the floods engulf me. I am worn out calling for help; my throat is parched. My eyes fail, looking for my God." Psalm 69 (68)

This is what the girl says as I was thrown to the other side of the store. My blood covers the ground, the cries don't reach me. We'll see if I was right to disbelieve in this man with a long white beard.

I know this is going to sound crazy, but it is indeed the beginning of Sam's story…


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**: Floating souls to nowhere.

Mutual essences of Dean and Sam Winchester were floating into the Void. Dust of scattered beings quietly stood, without any logic but still willing to think. After the electric shock and lethal bullets, some memories came to them, right after the _final dance_.

The fragments of their souls made them remember about that evening, a few years ago.

Dean recalled those memorable shots they had served him in "the garden". Moreover, he never came back since - and wondered if the bar was still open. Dean could not imagine the universe was still working with or without him.

The dusts of his mind were dislocated in the infinity while his memories focused on this night, when he met Sam in "the garden" with a girl.

Sam opened his mouth greatly. He looked at the figure and he recognized him: it was like being in a waking dream.

"Wait here, two minutes, okay?"

The girl nodded, shaking his hips. The posters on the walls of the dark nightclub revealed splendid creatures, bearing exotic snakes around their necks. Sam did not pay attention to them. He wanted to reach him, that man. He was close, now he took his arm, the shock was terrible. Dean was older, for sure. _He didn't change at all._

"Dean?"

The man did not answer. He didn't even look at him…

"Maybe it's me." he finally said.

But Sam recognized this face. It was indeed a face that was forged by the same mother. Now that he was facing him, he ignored how to behave.

"It's me, _Sam_."

" Sam?" he stammered.

Finally, his eyes lit up. His mouth opened, the friend of Sam came near them.

"Hey!" she exclaimed (she had such an annoying voice)," he's your brother, that's it?"

Dean bit his lip: this wasn't a dream. That man right there was indeed the brother who he had not seen for so many years.

He just drank three sips and looked at his face ... A big boy, yes!

" You're still the tall one." he swung.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were gone very far, that's what mom said."

"Mom is not always right, did not you notice?"

Sam laughed openly.

"You came alone?"

He didn't say yes or no. Sam carefully watched his brother. The friend of Sam smiled, at that moment; he wanted her to go away. He wanted to talk to his brother, just like they used to, before…

He could not believe it.

"Dean, let's talk, please?"

This time, Sam grasped him tightly by the shoulder. He had held his breath.

"What's wrong with you?"

"I just want to talk."

"This is what we do, my poor Sammy! I feel you're upset about something…"

"I would like to talk about dad."

Dean's face was different now he mentioned the "father reference". He merely gave his beer to the "companion" of Sam, who took it in her hands, she seemed disgusted.

"What's going on, between the two of you? Sam! What are you hiding, exactly? Is he really your brother...?"

Dean laughed (it was uproariously) took his beer back and put on his coat.

\- You did not think I was going to leave you my beer, anyway?

He walked down in front of her; she waited for Sam's reaction who didn't help. She immediately left, swearing, looking for companions. Anyway, Dean and Sam were not the only boys in the garden. There were other persons, male or female on the long couches. Dean opened the exit door, reserved for emergency use.

"We should not be here." Sam explained, "I saw the bouncer and even I could not seen the top of his head ..."

Too late, Dean was smoking. Sam was sitting on the steps with his hands folded.

"You smoke?" Sam wondered

"You wanted to talk about Dad."

It was too dark to see anything in the eyes of Dean, but Sam could perceive emotion.

"I don't want to worry you." Sam confessed.

"Go on, spit it out."

He exhaled smoke.

"At first I thought he had joined a cult…"

"A sect", 'he said.

The other nodded.

"It was not easy, he disappeared. He said he had meetings, and he stopped with girls. You know about dad and girls…"

"And mom? What did she say?"

Talking about their mother was painful. Sam noticed how his voice changed.

"Mom doesn't care. She must pay her debts; she is banned from casino…

"Again?"

"It's okay!" Sam replied, sitting up," we all made mistakes in this family."

There was a heavy silence, covered by stunning music that came from the rock club. Dean had nothing to complain about, it was true. Many mistakes were made and nothing clears. All that time he spent trying to erase the existence of his parents and his brother...

Well.

No.

That was such a big lie. He didn't try anything. He missed them, so hard.

"I thought it was a cult." Sam added. "But he didn't spend money."

"How d'you know?"

Sam couldn't talk about that…

"I know this is not right, I ... I just checked his accounts. Nothing has changed."

"I can't believe it, Dean hissed. "You're trying to be like me, don't you? Repeat after me: who can blame you if you're quiet?"

He was about to bless his forehead, the cigarette between his lips but he didn't do it. The amused tone of his voice vanished. He looked up at the sky. It was black, somewhat sullied by pollution. It started to snow. Sometimes he had this strange feeling –someone, somewhere was watching over him. Like a shadow who could take care of him. In his most unspoken dreams, he thought it was Sam. He would just check up on him.

Dean Winchester was not a talkative person, he didn't mention this feeling to anyone but he was sure that there was a shadow, on the other side of the street and this was not a hallucination.

The two brothers watched the snow. Their reunion was special now. Dean thought that a conscious force mocked them, somewhere.

"What's wrong with dad?" he asked.

"I think ... I think Dad became a Christian.

"You do not mean it?"

Dean feigned surprise.

"Dad has always been a Christian, Sam ... _Wake up!"_

"I've never read a Bible in my life."

"You should. Maybe it will teach you to deal with girls."

Dean smiled.

"You did not find better reason to talk to me, right? Dad became a Christian ... It's pathetic."

"I miss you, Dean."

He sat up in front of him, waiting for a sign.

"I had to leave, I had no choice." Sam said. "I was stupid and scared for everyone. I was afraid of everyone too."

Dean stared at him.

"Some have expressed their fear so hard they slapped me with it. »

"I will not talk about what happened." Dean said.

"Listen."

"I need you, he explained, all the days of my life, I walk on the street, I just hope to meet you. How can you ignore your brother, on the other side of the road?"

"I would like to talk about that, too!" Dean expressed by raising the finger, "you've hunted me! You rent this flat in front of mine, I noticed your bloody car! Mom's baby, right? If I had the Impala…"

"I think Dad feels very bad, Dean."

There was not a sound. It was very cold and snow covered the ground. Drunkenness was gone, Dean felt perfectly normal.

"Why?"

"I think he goes to church because he is afraid. He lost weight; he does not eat when I come to see him. Yet he seems _happy_. You know ... He's unable to talk about his feelings."

"He will have to learn how to do it, because I'm going to see him tonight."

"What?"

"I said, I'll see dad, right now."

"You drank, I drive."

"Okay."

Sam looked at Dean, who walked in front of him between unleashed women and men. He was almost afraid to lose him again, but his brother looked serious. Finally, they escaped the night and Dean immediately noticed the Impala.

"_I missed you baby…"_

And that was the end of the vision of Sam.

He finally woke up, somewhere.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**: The beginning of the trip.

Sam awoke, he still had the feeling that the bullets were still there and going through his flesh. He held his breath, looked for his executioners. But there was no supermarket; the blind chick was not there. He realized it was impossible to see. He immediately understood that something was obstructing his sight against his eyelids.

"Help!"

"Are you awake?"

"What do you want? Let me go."

"It would be dangerous." the voice said.

It was a woman's voice and Sam was terrified.

"Where am I?" he asked "what do you want?"

"You will know, right away – about everything. I am here to release you, don't be offended by the straps, Mr. Winchester. It is the protocol."

He trembled, his veins were about to implode - he held a scream back, gasped for a moment.

"I am asking you not to try anything against me, for your own good, Mr. Winchester. "

"You drugged me?" he whispered.

"It's in the straps; this should prevent you from hitting me, Mr. Winchester."

"Where are you taking me ...?"

His muscles were tetanized by the too strong effort. He could barely move. Sam wished to brutalize her…

"_Somewhere."_

"I can't see anything…"

"Trust us. It's hard, but you seem to give your trust to anyone."

"I beg your pardon?"

There was some noise, and then they started to walk. Sam realized how tall the woman was. A few minutes later, they placed him on a kind of seat. He was not sure, but it seemed the woman who walked with him gave him a brief caress on his left shoulder. He was quite surprised, caught his breath.

"You may remove your blindfold."

He brought his hands against his face: he could move his arms; he was almost free. He was in a narrow room that looked like a closet, metal walls (paint was slightly eroded; all of this was very similar to an abandoned warehouse). His heart skipped a beat - he realized that someone was in front of him but a wall separated them, he could not see the face. All he saw was his chest and his hands, beyond a glass border. Sam immediately got up from his chair but he was still drugged…

The other person did not move…

"Sit down, Sam."

The voice was hoarse; there was someone else in the trap?

"What do you want?" he asked, "Where..."

He rushed to the door: there was no grip. He felt bad, he needed to sit again.

At the same time - his lost brother lived the same situation, in this same place.

Dean leaned forward, toward the special wall that concealed his interlocutor.

"You're hiding." Dean murmured, "I will kill you, you know?"

"We brought you and your brother, here for a reason, Mr. Winchester. And you need to calm down."

"Why should I obey?"

His brother? He stressed.

"Because you do not have a choice?"

Dean almost regretted the moment the radio had touched the water's surface in the bathtub. At least it was warm and there was music.

"And before starting work, I want to make sure that you have realized your recent death."

Sam's eyes narrowed, dry mouth. He clasped his hands, inspired.

"I'm sorry, believe me, but it's the sad truth."

For his part, Dean stifled a yawn.

"That's it, you're done? You had fun? Release me now."

Dean's face darkened.

_"There is a game. The Manichaeus game. You do not know it, but you have already experienced it. Your eyes have seen it so many times. It is all around you. I ask you to join the game, if you do not mind. "_

"I do not want to play." he said. "I want to go home."

"Dead men don't have homes. You can say no. Nothingness will swallow you, and you will reach the infinity of nothing: just push the door to your right. It will make you fall in the darkness forever. Does it sound scary?"

"And if I say yes?" Dean asked. "What will you do to us?"

"You have been chosen, and we will tell you why when you say _yes_."

Sam Winchester sighed.

"The game is a matter of strategy and action. Can you play chess?"

He was surprised, again. Obviously he knew. Sam nodded.

"You will have to face your troops. They have been chosen too…"

"_How?"_ the two brothers asked, at the same time.

"You must fight and impose your team. Now, about the contract…"

"The contract?"

"Right before your eyes."

Dean noticed the presence of a paper and a pen on the table in front of him. He was sure: they had appeared from nowhere, and that feeling troubled his mind.

"The sheet is blank." Dean declared.

"Judicious comment, Mr. Winchester."

"This is not a contract ..."

"We need your signature."

Sam hesitated to write his name, but he took the pen between his fingers, faster than his brother. On the other hand, the person was doing the same thing. He sighed, terrified to cross the door on the right. But the game was worst. Finally, he approached the tip of the pen against the perfect white "_contract_", he did not move.

_"The fear of nothingness pushes me to write my name."_

Finally he looked up at the separation that allowed him to see the silhouette of his tormentor. Gently, the wall rose into a terrifying squeaking. He dropped the pen, Dean and Sam looked. There was a heavy silence. The man's voice was gone. The brothers were paralyzed, looking at the contracts. Both just signed.

"What are we doing here, Dean?"

"There seems to be a bit of a deficiency over there… Fuck!"

Dean pointed to the door.

"Calm your mind, Dean. It's useless, they said…"

"Do you trust them? Are you serious?"

"It's not a dream, Dean ... We're stuck with this shit…"

"This is not real" Dean roared, forcing the door (it was useless).

"And if it was real? ...The Manichaeus game…"

"I do not care, Dean shouted, why us, and for what?"

"A strategy game, he explained, like chess."

"If I knew death would be this mad I would have never let it take me!"

Both doors were open. Dean crossed the door first, but when Sam followed him – he was alone in the corridor. He tried to return to his roots, but there was no door.

"Dean? Where are you...?"

Dean was somewhere else. Where was Sam?

"Mr. Winchester, do not move."

Dean returned. He was about to faint. He ran a hand to his chest, falling against the wall. Dean was clearly terrified. His pupils infinitely expanded…

"You understand about the headband, Mr. Winchester."

"This is..."

A voice came from a metal opening, over their ties and behind their incredible skin. Dean's eyes widened even more. They had no heads, only tubes: long and transparent. There was some liquid inside, and bubbles. The creatures wore suits and were so tall…_Monsters..._

"Follow me."

He did not move, while the strange man (?!) was about to leave. He stopped walking, turned to the poor boy.

"I understand your surprise, the creature said; I was scared too, when I saw the faces of humans for the first time. But I find them beautiful, actually."

Dean sat up.

"You should follow me; I have some gifts for you. I know you like whiskey and pies."

And she (or he) began to walk. Dean followed the walking tube, he was very impressed.

"You organize the game?"

"Yes, that's us."

"Why?"

The creature entered a room and Dean followed, nervous as hell.

"Do you know who we are?"

Obviously, he did not. But this amused the creature.

"We are the _bored ones_. And we are helpless into nothingness."

"Wait a minute..."

Dean stepped inside.

"How am I supposed to call you?"

"Do not call me."

He retained a sigh of despair and sat on the chair in the large room. The creature didn't lie about bourbon and pies.

"I'm sure it's poison." Dean exclaimed.

Wow it seemed to smell so damn good…

"You are already dead, Dean."

He waited a few seconds, raised his eyebrows and decided to bite. It was delicious.

"We are your entertainment, right?"

It was difficult to hear with all this food in his mouth… The "bored one" didn't respond.

"How many are you?"

"Twenty."

"Tell me more about your silly game ..."

"The Manichaeus game is our work; you win the game when your opponent is down. The victory is conquering the territory with your team."

The bored one handed some folders to Dean.

"Can you read that?" he asked.

He nodded for him there were drawings and abstract symbols.

"This is your _alpha_ level. Humans are all composed of two intrinsic genes of their race. The alpha cell and the omega cell. The higher the rate would be, the more carrying you will be. Tempted by the light and faith, altruism and passion, courage, knowledge and righteousness… About omega cell ... You know that it is its _opposite_. The omega rate reveals a prone to darkness and night, vice… What does the church say about that? _Sin?_ Is that the good word? They might be seven…Our studies are incomplete, I apologize. We have so much to learn from your race!"

Dean stopped eating. He abandoned his pie; it was more unreal than this tube-man.

"And what's wrong with my Alpha level?"

"We have never seen such a rate. We have already played _Manichaeus_ game so many times! And we love it, oh yes ... This game is so exciting! But you are impressive. Just like your brother...The rate is similar to yours, you know.

Dean let out a sigh of relief. He was so afraid of playing against his brother. No doubt he would be a part of his team?

"His omega's rate is so high...!"

His heart stopped for a second, only _one_, Dean stood up.

"What do you mean? He asked, my brother would be an incarnation of evil?"

He leaned toward the beast.

"Your brother will be your adversary."

"No way."

"The game isn't violent. You can't injure him."

He grabbed the bottle of whiskey and broke it against the glass of the table (which was barely touched), at least, he threatened the creature.

"I will not touch my brother, Dean explained, cancel the contract."

"You have ruined such a good whiskey, Mr. Winchester!"

There was no panic in this voice...

"You will play the game. I'm sure you've already played games. Are not you brothers? A world of omniscience will be available, just for you. You will move your troops on Earth. Since here - nowhere, from the infinity of space and the darkest night, you give orders to your subordinates. They will fight for you, Dean Winchester. Your angels will die for you, if you want to."

The glass shattered whiskey fell to the ground. Dean was lost.

"But Sam ... Sam is a good man."

The creature shook his head-tube.

"You're not the best man, Dean."

Dean said nothing. The creature left him, on his own. In the evening, he would have to face his brother.

Later, Sam Winchester was escorted to the game room. He was not excited to start playing.

But it was too late, he was dead and he had signed the contract. There was a table in the middle, and two little seats facing each other. They proposed him water and food.

"I'm not hungry."

"The game is overwhelming." They said, politely.

Sam was angry. He rolled up his sleeves, and sat. This role was a mistake, he said in his head. Dean joined him, minutes after.

"Players are in place…"

The high lights of the room were dimmed.

"Let the game begin."

"At the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. 2The earth was formless and void, and darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was moving over the surface of the waters.…"

"And God touched his devoted angels, while the Devil threw in the hearts of his daughters the cult of the wound and the love of rags."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**: The meeting

Dean looked down on the game sphere where he could see Castiel - he was still asleep. He just arrived at the hospital. He was surprised to feel some concern about him.

"They must be amused." Dean said, "What were the chances? Our pawns, all together this time?"

Sam smiled a bit. Dean was right…

"It's amazing." Sam commented, watching his positions, "it's just like they're trying to come together. It is as instinctive ..."

Sam turned his attention to this _man_ who called himself "Lucifer". His gaze froze him. He deeply inhaled. Although he knew it was only a game, he could not break away from this vision horror, about this exploding head and this absurd melody in the restaurant…

"Intermission! Intermission!"

Then we asked the two brothers to go in their suites: two separate apartments. Dean wished to talk with his brother, away from those scary _tube-men_, as he called them. But the game taught them about the meetings. That was pure cheating. Dean was locked up in his room; then measured the size of his problem. He briefly wondered how Sam's suite was.

The place was charming: the smell was pleasant. The bored ones should have spent eternity, to organize this bloody room. He lay down on the large bed. Dean Winchester thought about Castiel.

_"This guy ..." _

He sat up.

"It had to be him. They did it on purpose. They are sick."

_"Lord, was it You?"_

He recognized his voice immediately. Dean stood, alone. He had heard as if he was there next to him. But the silhouette of Castiel was not here.

"_In a certain sense, yes."_ Dean whispered.

Far from nowhere, Castiel opened his eyes. There was always the perfusion in his left arm, but the weakness was gone. He remembered the flash, the guy on the ground, and that voice. Besides, he had heard it again. He was still in the damn room, at the hospital. He pushed the white sheets. He felt a kind of burning in his back. That was the fall.

Castiel knew it was something else. He had wings now.

"I'm going crazy." he sighed, looked up to heaven. "I hear you perfectly well. Are you real?"

The angel did not want to hear. But yet, he had seen it all and heard it all. He held his breath when the nurse opened the door. He didn't need any medication, he thought, and pretended to sleep.

"_The foreign gentleman?"_

The nurse came near the bed, placed the tray on the side. Castiel kept his two eyes closed, taking a slow breath. He even felt the fingers of the young woman on his cheek. But it was not _her_. It was an apparition, and the touch of this skin was outstanding. At least and after a few minutes - he opened his eyes.

"You're the one who's talking to me, in my head." He said, without looking at the person.

"_Cas, it's me."_

At this moment, Castiel stopped breathing and panicked.

"A ghost from the past." he said, facing him, "finally, _Dean Winchester._"

Dean knew he was not allowed to cheat. It was forbidden, obviously but who would know? The two men looked at each other without a word. Their breaths were silent, and there was nothing to say more.

"You came back to haunt me, don't you? You're dead, that's it?"

"True and false."

Castiel was livid. He put his hand to his perfusion. The blood did not ruin because it was angel's blood, probably?

"What is happening, Dean?"

"It's long. There is this game, and Sam. We have to fight against each other. And you're..."

_"You're an angel, yeah."_

"I have something new inside." Castiel added. "I feel like I know everything. This is atrocious."

"Listen."

He grabbed his arm.

"I'm stuck in nowhere. I can't leave the game. I've accepted because I was afraid ... But now…"

"Dean, I do not understand what you're saying."

He clung to him, fiercely.

"They control everything from where I am. This is way too far from Nevada, Cas. It is far from everything you know, it's insane. There are others like you. Find them and release us. Find the ones who work for Sam and meet. Without you, Sam and I are lost."

Castiel watched in silence. He believed him, in spite of himself.

"You want me to find the others?"

"That's what I said yes." Dean said.

"But how ...?"

"I can't tell you, I've done too much."

He looked around him.

"I'm cheating as hell, he hissed, they will suspect something."

"Who are they? Where are they?"

Dean hurried over him and whispered in his ear…

"They are everywhere. They puppets around us, they will try to stop you, I'm sure."

Their faces were so damn closer. His heart imploded, but in the second following, Castiel realized Dean vanished. Real nurses made their entrance. They brought him some unsavory food.

"You should eat, Sir!"

He said nothing. It was sure: he would wear his trench coat in the wardrobe at the back and his blue. This vision was not enough, he was going to find him, and he did not know where to start…

Through the door seemed to be a good start.

Everything is so different now.

On the same day, Lucifer was thinking. Each inhale and exhale, his blood bubbled up. It was probably a disease, he thought, and that was a nice curse. The shade he was used to in the uncertain world had found a new meaning: a primary and inexpressible desire to find the one - to find this Sam Winchester. But who was he? Where was he? And what did he want? Lucifer himself could not answer any questions.

He would find him. But first, he had to find his partners. He joined this car outside, it didn't belong to him, anyway; it was only a matter of time. He entered the car, it was his car now. He turned on the radio. The engines roared, the guitar was good to hear, the voice too.

"_Let's go."_ He said.

_"I met someone like Jesus, in the spring of '98. He was so full of love, and I was so full of hate. So I nailed him we cross, where He belonged, told myself it's what he would Have wanted all along. Then I drove into the night, looking for someone to burn, and all those little parable that I never cared to learn. "_

But at the same time, there was a man in the church of St. Peter the Apostle, in Henderson. You know, this place is not so bad... It is a peaceful church, in a quiet street where nothing interesting ever happens. And if you want to check the address, here it is: 204 South Boulder Highway, Henderson, NV 89015, USA. Maybe you will meet Father McLeod?

_O eternal God and Ruler of all creation, you have allowed me to reach this hour. Forgive the sins I have committed this day by word, deed or thought. Purify me, O Lord, from every spiritual and physical stain. Grant that I may rise from this sleep to glorify You by my deeds throughout my entire lifetime, and that I be victorious over every spiritual and physical enemy." _

"Deliver me, O Lord, from all vain thoughts and from evil desires, for yours is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, now and ever, and forever."

The voice echoed in the church.

"It was a wonderful prayer, boy."

The boy who prayed slightly jumped on the chair.

"Father."

"You don't need to come there. The Lord will hear you wherever your heart goes."

The boy nodded, obviously father McLeod was right. He approached him then sat next to him on the same bench. He was not very old; the priest still kept his hands close together.

"I'm sorry, father, but this is the only place I feel good. Everything is so different now."

"Hell yeah…"

He snickered, for a moment he felt isolated and abandoned. _A laugh?_ He turned his head to stare at his face.

"I'll pray."

"Come on, you have so much better things to do! Get up and walk!"

The boy felt annoyed.

"What's wrong with you, father?" he thought.

"Nothing serious, my son."

The rosary in his hands slipped and fell on the ground. It bounced a moment. McLeod raised his eyebrows; bent to pick up the precious jewel (it was much more than that). He examined the cross then handed it to the boy.

"I do not want to sound cruel, you know. But there are so many other places where you could cry. You'll feel better than ever, men are strong for that."

"I'll leave you. I must go."

"Look at yourself, look how you lie, boy! _Do you lie to Him?_"

He pointed to the crucifix behind him. The boy bit his lip and rose up. No doubt it was, once again, one of those nightmares they seemed so real! He reached the church doors, they opened on...

Father McLeod. How could he do that? Magic? Of course no.

"Will you find another church? he asked, I think you need another address, do not you think? You need some rest, so you will buy a few bottles and find some liquor store…

Remember, a man who drinks a lot is a man who will sleep deeply! And the one who sleeps can't sin! You have nothing to fear."

"You are a monster."

He could not watch the priest face, it was unbearable. His eyes seemed darker, he had no choice, and he suddenly pushed the man and closed the door behind him. His breath was taken away. When he turned…

"It is everywhere, boy."

He became so pale and his legs were shaking. Father McLeod flashed as he noticed something particular. What was that smell? Urine?

"Oh no! Go away!"

Father McLeod slapped the boy's shoulder.

"And do not come back! You fool!"

"Nowadays, those idiots who attend church are way too weak..."

He lit a cigarette. He did not notice the people around watching the crazy priest, there. The smoking and aggressive priest was spectacular, but everything happens in Vegas. He exhaled smoke, went inside the church.

"What did he expect in my church? God? And the Devil? Nobody wants to shake his hand! »

He laughed alone and then he stopped.

"There is someone."

It was not a question.

"It's me, Crowley."

He stepped forward: the silhouette was on the other side of the church, near the exit door. It was him, he didn't change.

"_Wow_… You remembered my nickname McLeod says, I might roll on the floor, I'm so excited."

"Do not do that, okay?"

"Would it make you feel… uncomfortable?"

"It's not that easy."

"The beautiful and great Lucifer has joined my home sweet home and decided to say hello to the priest in St Peter the Apostle?"

"I see you remembered my name, too."

Lucifer and Crowley were face to face.

"To what do I owe this visit from you?"

"Everything is so different now. I have to find this guy. He has a name. _Sam Winchester_. I do not know who he is, I do not know why I want him, but I want him now."

Crowley did not respond and did not show any expression of sarcasm. Instead, he took the time to think while Lucifer slowly crossed his arms.

"Ah ... your sex stories are not my concern, Pellegrino."

"Did you forget what I've done for your ass? You've been crowned, Fergus."

"I like when you call me Crowley." he said.

His whistle was chilling and burning.

"We must start now. Join the others, find them and release the Winchesters."

"Why should I follow you?" Crowley asked suddenly, crushing the cigarette against the carpet.

"The crown, 'said Lucifer, you remember? If you do not follow me, I would withdraw it."

"Do you really think you can?"

"Follow me, and get more."

He smiled, did not say a word. Crowley did not move. Obviously, he noticed the changes those last days. At first he thought it was alcohol. But it was not possible: it was something else. Fergus McLeod knew everything about the world and the vastness of nothingness.

"The party has begun, Crowley remarked, they are the Gods, and we're not."

Lucifer was clearly irritated.

"The Bible says it all, exclaimed Crowley, did you see how the story ends for Lucifer? She ended very badly! ... _Yeah_, especially for you!"

Crowley rubbed his hands. He realized they were not alone: there was a man there, who did not look like Lucifer. He was short, smirking constantly. He took off his sunglasses and walked near the two gangsters. But of all, he was the best.

"Gabriel."

They had never seen him but they knew who he was - because that was how the world was.

"I know where are our last partners…"

He seemed particularly pleased to deliver the information.

"One of them is a dancer, Gabriel said.

"The Centerfold's, a cabaret, in Phoenix."

Lucifer carefully watched the man's face.

"Probably a stripper." Gabriel added.

"Phoenix is far. If we leave now, we should arrive around five in the evening! You got a car well, eh, Luci?"

"Luci…" Gabriel repeated, biting lips, your name is Luci. It suits you so well."

Lucifer walked around.

"Will you help us to find Sam?" he asked.

"Who's that?"

"The man who has opened your eyes." Lucifer replied.

"Oh, you're talking about that tall guy who appears in my dreams?"

The darkest angel from heaven looked at him: a death glare. He felt intense jealousy, while Crowley was back, a suitcase in a hand.

"I hope you have your toothbrushes, because I do not lend mine."


End file.
